


Seek Shelter From This Storm

by wordswordswords7



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Alexis Rose, Mentioned Stevie Budd - Freeform, Off-screen death, One Shot, Parent Death, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 06, Summer storm, but it is the catalyst for this whole thing, honestly it only gets mentioned briefly, mentioned Ruth Clancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:46:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswordswords7/pseuds/wordswordswords7
Summary: Later, Patrick will only remember parts of what had been said...Johnny. A meeting in New York. Heart attack.***David processes the worst kind of news with Patrick at his side.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	Seek Shelter From This Storm

Patrick hears the news from Stevie first. Or rather, he’s with her in the motel office—dropping off some wine from the store on his way home—when she gets the call from Ruth. Later, he’ll only remember parts of what had been said. 

Johnny. A meeting in New York. Heart attack. 

_“I’m...I’m so sorry. He was gone before the ambulance could get here.”_

Patrick doesn’t even remember leaving the motel. One minute he’s there and the next he’s pulling into their driveway, having arrived home by some combination of sheer luck and muscle memory. How many traffic laws did he break to get here? It doesn’t matter. It _can’t_ matter. All that matters now is finding David and then...Patrick doesn’t really know.

The house is empty when he enters it. He can feel it like a sixth sense as he drifts from the front entrance to the back of the cottage. Can just tell that every room is vacant, each colder and emptier without David in it. Patrick stands in the middle of the kitchen feeling untethered and rudderless, his shirt sticking unpleasantly to his back from the humidity he's just come in from, when suddenly he sees David through the kitchen window. Patrick takes a slow step forward, reaching out to slide the patio door open. When he gets there he stops, anchored painfully to the spot.

David is standing in the middle of the backyard, staring off into the distance—his arms hanging limply at his sides and a great invisible weight bearing down on his shoulders. The warm summer wind is picking up, reaching out from the west like the greedy fingers of a hand that tugs at his dark hair and the white t-shirt. The wind creeps down the collar of Patrick’s shirt too as he watches frozen from the open door. Sweat beads at his temples.

David looks lost. Like he’s only just woken up to find himself here, staring out over the horizon. Before him storm clouds roll eastward across the sky, great lumbering giants passing over patchwork thickets of trees and lush green farm fields. Their gravid bodies are heady with rain that promises to fall warm and fat against the expectant earth. The grass beneath David’s feet rolls in oceanic waves around him, and the ever-present cicadic hum of summer has settled into a wary silence. It's as if even those tiny creatures know to pause their lovers’ calls long enough to seek shelter. 

Behind the darkest mass of storm clouds, flickering sheets of lightning flash in violent bursts, eager to cut through the oppressive heat. Patrick manages to take a step out onto the deck just as the first drops of rain fall.

“David.”

The wind steals the strength of his voice away and he has to call to his husband again, this time nearly shouting to be heard. David looks over his shoulder as the clouds slowly let loose their torrent, and Patrick can see the look of dazed confusion etched against his pale, wet face.

“Come inside!”

David turns wordlessly back to the wide expanse of neighbouring farmland before him. When his shoulders begin to shake some shock-addled synapsis in Patrick’s brain fires, finally snapping his body into action so that he can move again. He closes the distance between them quickly and puts himself in front of David, placing both hands on either side of his husband’s rain-wet face. Whatever had been holding David back before, breaks now. His face collapses with wretched desperation and his body shudders with broken sobs. His hands grasp tightly to Patrick's wrists, and Patrick can feel his own hot tears spilling over as he pulls David into a crushing embrace, suddenly afraid to let go. The warm rain quickly soaks them through.

“My dad...Alexis c-called...and my dad…”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

Thunder cracks around them and the sky lights up again, making them both jump. 

“Come on,” he gasps into the seashell whorl of David’s ear. “We can’t stay out here.”

Patrick pulls him back toward the house. His pulse thrums as thunderclaps ricochet around them—closer this time—urging them to break into a run to cover the last few feet to the open patio door. He lets go of David for a moment to slide the door closed. When he turns back to pull him into his arms again—or maybe even just to hold his hand—David has put distance between them once more. He’s running one hand through his soaking wet hair and wiping the other across his face, tears thoroughly indistinguishable from rain now. He takes a deep breath and stands a little straighter. Patrick can see the sheer amount of effort it takes for him to reign in his grief, and he wants to tell him he doesn't need to do this. That he can come apart in Patrick's arms for as long as he needs. That Patrick needs to come apart too.

Instead he just quietly asks, “David?”

His face has become a blank mask, and Patrick itches to reach out to him but something in the hard won control of David’s features stops him. David doesn’t reply right away, and the silence between them is deafening, punctuated only by the storm they’ve just left behind.

When he finally speaks, it’s with uncommon restraint and determination that makes Patrick's chest ache.

“I need to go to New York. Someone needs to... _I need to_ take care of this.”

Patrick takes a deep, shaking breath, and wills himself to keep it together.

"Okay, David. Whatever you need."

**Author's Note:**

> YIKES. This all started because I had this visual/description of the summer thunderstorm rolling around in my head all day and unfortunately the next logical step was to make some really sad shit happen to beloved fictional characters so that I had an excuse to write it down. 
> 
> My bad.


End file.
